


This bath like a pool like some surprise brotherly incest

by saliache



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: All The Tropes, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Sibling Rivalry, all of them - Freeform, derpy sex, porn bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1643480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saliache/pseuds/saliache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this to blank out an entire porn bingo card as a challenge. And by ‘this’ I mean nearly 1800 words of crack disguised as porn. You have been warned. </p><p>Featuring Feanor, Fingolfin, a pool Finwe’s bath, sexual hijinks, and absolutely no diacritical marks at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This bath like a pool like some surprise brotherly incest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloriousmonsters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloriousmonsters/gifts).



“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Fingolfin complained. “Does Nerdanel know?”

 “Shut up and take your clothes off,” Feanor hissed.

 

 “But-”

 “To the  _Void_  with foreplay. Let’s just get this done.” Feanor yanked off his socks and hopped into the bath.

 Fingolfin eyed him – and his magnificently sculpted muscles – pensively. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to just do a few laps instead? This is a very nice bath of Father’s. I would hate to see it ruined.”

 Feanor pulled up from where he was doing just that and scowled at his brother. “We are not going to ruin anything of Father’s just by squishing a few body parts in it. This is a bath. It has adequate plumbing.”

 “If you say so,” Fingolfin said dubiously, finally pulling his robes off. He folded them neatly and lay them beside the pile of Feanor’s clothes – and solitary boot. The other boot lay dangerously close to the edge of Finwe’s pool. Perhaps there would be an accident later, he mused. Was that boot made of fitted leather, with golden embroideries done in Miriel’s favorite style? It looked so. What a shame. He dabbled a toe in the warm water before sitting on the rather conveniently-placed stairs Finwe apparently liked in his overly-sized baths. “Are you sure this is what they meant by brotherly bonding?”

 “Just get in and we’ll see,” Feanor snarled, paddling closer so his chest could slide wetly over Fingolfin’s legs. “Kiss me.”

 Fingolfin suppressed a laugh and bent down, sliding his lips over his half-brother’s. Feanor’s tongue poked at his insistently. He opened his mouth to let his brother in, then stabbed back. Soon their tongues were doing something Fingolfin could only describe as a minor war for dominance. He wasn’t quite sure it counted as a kiss anymore, but Feanor was doing his best to prevent him from shoving his tongue down his half-brother’s throat, so he decided to count it as a victory.

 Without warning, Feanor hooked his foot behind Fingolfin’s knees, pushed, and brought them both toppling into the water with a crash. Fingolfin’s knees hit the edge of the stairs on the way down. That was definitely going to bruise later.

 Finwe’s bath was much shallower than he’d expected; the water only came up to his waist. “Brother!” he snapped in frustration. “At least  _warn_  me next time.”

 Feanor’s eyes gleamed, and Fingolfin suspected he’d do no such thing. “As you say,” his brother murmured, stroking his fingers along Fingolfin’s jawline lazily. “But Nerdanel tells me I should be generous, in case you decide to run off like a spooked horse, so I think I’ll let you take me, instead of the other way around.”

 What?

 “Um, I am sure that is very generous of you…” he trailed off. There was no way he would admit to any weakness before his half-brother.

 Feanor must have guessed, however, because the gleam in his eyes intensified and his lips curled into something amused and predatory. “You do know how this works, brother?” he purred, leaning in close until Fingolfin could feel the heat of his body.

 Fingolfin was silent.

 Feanor sighed. “Use your hands,” he said, suddenly matter-of-fact. “Explore my ass.”

 Explore his ass? Fingolfin cautiously edged his hands down Feanor’s back, feeling muscle ripple under toned skin. His half-brother’s rear end was just as impressively toned, and Fingolfin took a quick pause to admire the way they cupped into his hands. Then Feanor spread his legs, and slid his hips to the side so that his fingers hit his brother’s – oh, Feanor had  _better_  have cleaned himself before this.

 “Yes, it’s the thing that feels like a puckered hole,” Feanor said drily. “Poke it.”

 “Won’t it hurt?” Fingolfin asked.

 “Stretch and burn,” Feanor agreed. Fingolfin checked; his brother was still smiling that strange smile. “Scissoring your fingers will do that, but it is  _much_ more exciting than the alternative.”

 It occurred to Fingolfin that his half-brother was a masochist.

 “I’m doing it,” he announced to no one in particular as he began… poking.

 “Well, you’re going to have to do it har- ah. Yes. Like that.”

 Feanor’s asshole was as unyielding as the rest of him; Fingolfin wriggled his fingers, trying to relieve the pressure on them. Feanor twitched around him, a motion he would have considered fluttery if it hadn’t meant his hand was going to cramp soon.

 “You are a  _terrible_  brother,” he grunted, switching hands. Feanor wrapped his legs around him in response and leaned in for another not-kiss.

 Their tongues poked angrily at each other, but Feanor seemed calmer. Odd.

 “Good enough,” Feanor panted as they separated for breath. He slid down, into the water, his hair forming a wavy cloud about his head. He’d forgotten to take off his coronet; it was a delicate circle of silver wire, wrapped and set with soft blue stones. Fingolfin fished it out of the water and tossed it aside as Feanor licked his cock.

 He nearly fell over in shock. What the-

 Oh, so now his body had decided to go along with Feanor’s shenanigans, too. Feanor licked him again, from base to head, leaving a thick layer of spit already dissolving into the water and a warm feeling in his groin.

 Feanor’s hands were  _very_  talented, he mused. His half-brother paused, gauged his work, and nodded. 

“It is done,” he said ominously. “Now we get to fucking in earnest now.”

 Fingolfin covered himself protectively. “Fucking in earnest, you say.”

 Feanor had the temerity to laugh at him, a bright, ringing sound, before turning him to face the stairs. He also took the perch Fingolfin had occupied, Fingolfin noted. 

His half-brother braced himself with his elbows, head curled near to his chest, as his legs wrapped around Fingolfin and coaxed him into a kneeling pose. “Now take me,” he said, “as I know you’ve taken Anaire.”

 Fingolfin knew when his brother was of no mind to hear argument, so he grabbed Feanor’s hips and thrust. Feanor was different from Anaire – hotter, he mused, and tighter, and there was rather more chafing.

 “Shouldn’t we have something for the friction?”

 Feanor grit his teeth. “That’s what the water is for.”

 “Water should not be used as lube then,” Fingolfin grunted, thrusting again.

 “Shut up and fuck me,” Feanor snapped, “Unless you-”

 Fingolfin thrust again, and Feanor shut up for once, his head lolling back. His body also arched up in a way Fingolfin could have sworn bodies could not bend.

 The next few minutes were filled with the sound of water slapping on marble and increasingly heavy breathing.

 Finally Fingolfin had to ask. “Are you okay?”

 Feanor blinked at him. “Hmm? Oh, yes. This pose holds the best chances of your hitting the sweet spot with every thrust.”

 “Sweet spot,” Fingolfin muttered dubiously. “Right. Because you have  _so much experience_  with this.”

 Feanor laughed at him again. It was beginning to be rather tiresome. “Oh, Fingolfin. Did you think Nerdanel as passive in bed as she is not in public? Surely Anaire understands what it is that brings a man to completion. Judging from the number of lovers your son has it seems she taught him well.”

 Well, that was far too much information. He was  _never_  going to think of poor Fingon the same way ever again. Fingolfin thrust angrily, and had the satisfaction of hearing Feanor moan quietly. His cock throbbed, although whether in response or because it disliked all the shoving he’d done with it recently he was unsure.

 Feanor surged forward suddenly, hooking his arms around Fingolfin’s neck and pulling him into another kiss.

 “That was then,” he murmured, “and this is now.” And he began sliding himself along Fingolfin’s cock in a way that felt infinitely more arousing than Fingolfin’s own efforts. Fingolfin tried to ignore the burn of inadequacy in his blood and the rubbing of Feanor’s cock, slick with precome and water, against his stomach.

 Feanor leaned in to kiss him again as he came, the edges of his vision darkening for a moment from the lack of air, and then they were both in the water again, held up by the edge of the pool digging into Fingolfin’s back.

 “Oh, damn,” he whispered.

 Feanor laughed, but the sound was different now. Lighter, and less caustic. It was really more of a chuckle, and Fingolfin matched it. They lay there, buoyed up by the water as the light mingled overhead, until Feanor pulled himself off carefully and stood.

 He was, to Fingolfin’s surprise, still half-erect.

 “Look at what you’ve done to me,” he said, bemused. Fingolfin reached over to finish his brother off.

 Feanor came undone, and with it came semen. Lots of semen. It painted his chest, dribbled into the water to be washed away. Fingolfin watched, impressed, as his brother coaxed himself into spurting again and again, until he dropped back into the water.

 “That’s it for me,” Feanor said, words Fingolfin had last heard him use in the forge during a joint project with Mahtan. The incongruity startled a laugh from him.

 “Milked out of every drop?” he teased.

 Feanor did not laugh. “I saw lights when I came,” he said seriously. “Bright lights. I think someone’s coming.”

 Fingolfin hurried to wash the semen off himself and accidentally got a mouthful in the process. Diluted with water, it was salty but not unpleasant. He spat it out, anyways, just as Nerdanel and their father came in through the doorway.

 “-last saw them headed here,” Finwe was saying.

 “And it seems Findis was right,” Nerdanel said dryly, sharp silver eyes sweeping over the pair. Fingolfin had the sinking feeling that she at least knew exactly what had just transpired, even if Finwe didn’t.

 “Findis is right in many things,” Feanor said mildly. “She is a truly knowledgeable young woman.”

 Fingolfin parsed through his brother’s words. Wait.  _Findis_  had put him up to it? Well, damn. Feanor chuckled again; he must have caught the train of Fingolfin’s thoughts. At the sound, his cock twitched, and he suppressed a groan. He was not going to allow it to embarrass him in front of his dearly beloved father, much less his arrogant brother and his arrogant brother’s overly passionate wife.

 “Care if we join you two?” Finwe asked.

 Feanor nodded, sliding his body protectively between Fingolfin and their father. It seemed their earlier camaraderie had vanished.

 Still, as Finwe and Nerdanel stripped, he made his move. It wasn’t too late to get back at his brother, just a little bit. He leaned in close and asked, “So, you do this all the time, then, with Nerdanel?”

 Feanor smirked viciously. “Why do you think I have four sons, and you have but one?”


End file.
